Then he was gone, and his absence left her feeling exposed and thrilled at the same time. She heard the sound of a condom wrapper, a zipper, and he was between her legs, pushing them wide apart.
“I’m going to taste you,” he said. “Don’t try to fight it.”
“No.”
She made an effort to move her legs, but he held them tight, and then his tongue was slick against her, dipping into her, massaging, coaxing her.
“Stop,” she said between gasps of pleasure.
And then, to her dismay, he did.
“As you wish,” he said, his voice hard-edged and taunting.
She whimpered and squirmed to no avail.
In the darkness, his shadowy form moved over her, but their bodies didn’t touch as he lowered his mouth to her ear. When he drew her earlobe between his lips and sucked, gooseflesh dotted her skin.
“You want me, don’t you?”
“No,” she whispered. “Leave, please.”
“If you want me to leave, why are you so wet?”
His gloved fingers again were between her legs, massaging her in a circular motion. Yasmine gasped, struck again by how fully she trusted this man who had complete control over her now. He could do whatever he wanted, and the danger of it thrilled her…yet she felt safe. He would never hurt her. She had so little frame of reference for that certainty, but she didn’t doubt it for a moment.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over completely to the fantasy.
“Okay, you don’t want to answer me? I’ll just give you what you’re afraid to ask for.”
He grasped her hips as his cock found its destination.
“Bastard,” she said.
Then he thrust hard into her, and she arched her back and cried out, having a difficult time pretending not to enjoy herself.
“You like this, don’t you?” he said as he thrust again and again.
“Mmm,” she moaned.
She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pounded into her, giving it to her hard and fast the way she wanted it. She loved that he knew what she wanted without her having to ask now. Loved the feel of him deep inside, stretching her, forcing her closer and closer to orgasm.
“You knew I was watching you through the window, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I knew.”
“You want me to make you come?”
“Yes,” she cried out, and a few seconds later she was there.
Her legs locked around him, she felt something inside her give way as she gasped in the rush of her orgasm. Her body drinking him in, he came, too, his moans drowning out hers as he gave his final thrusts. Then they collapsed together, spent and breathless.
Yasmine nuzzled her face into him as they caught their breath, her mind reeling with the implications of what she might start to hope for in their relationship now. Now that she knew how deeply she trusted him, how different she was sure he was from the men who’d never seen past her surface.
A few minutes later he pulled away from her and freed her from the handcuffs. “Wow,” he said. “Got any more fantasies you want acted out?”
“I think that’s enough political incorrectness for one night,” she said, smiling.
But clearly, she’d spent far too long ignoring her fantasy life.
“Just let me know,” he said, spooning up against her on the bed. “I’m available for any and all requests.”
“How about you?”
“The coupon is yours, not mine.”
“Okay, then my next fantasy request is to fulfill your favorite fantasy.”
“Hmm,” he said. “That sounds like a twisting of the rules to me.”
She laughed. “Guess I forgot to read the fine print. Now, come on, I told you mine. You tell me yours.”
“In the spirit of political incorrectness, I have to admit….”
“Come on! Spill it.”
“I’ve always had this thing for peep shows.”
She bit her lip and smiled, rolling over to look him in the eyes. “You mean, like the ones where you pay a dollar and get to see a naked chick?”
“Something like that, though I’m guessing they cost more than a dollar these days.”
“That might be kind of hard to duplicate,” she said, giving the matter some thought. “But I do know a place….”
The strip club where Cass used to work had a little of everything when it came to X-rated entertainment, and Yasmine was pretty sure she’d heard Cass describe some private rooms that might fit the bill for a full-on peep show fantasy.
“Really, it’s the element of voyeurism that’s appealing. I like the idea of watching a woman put on a show—”
“But there’s more to a peep show than voyeurism. It’s a kind of seedy, dark, sex appeal. It requires the right setting and props to be effective.”
“We don’t have to make it so complicated. In fact, I’ve got plenty of other fantasies we could act out.”
“No, this is the first one that came to mind, and I like it. I just need a little time to make some arrangements, find the right props, and your fantasy will be fulfilled.”
“It’s awfully generous of you to share your coupon with me.”
“Purely for selfish reasons, trust me. In the meantime, I think I saw a massage coupon in my gift package….”
“Ready to redeem it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She rolled onto her belly and rested her head on her arms.
Kyle sat up and straddled her hips, removed his gloves, and dragged his fingers lightly up her back, sending tingling sensations through her. He started kneading her flesh, finding tense spots around her shoulder blades and neck and working them out, and Yasmine felt herself relaxing by a degree with each stroke.
In a matter of minutes, she’d be asleep if he kept it up. But he quickly moved on from her back to her arms, then her legs, then her feet. And after he’d finished working the kinks out of her feet, he moved up her legs again and slid his fingers inside her.
She hadn’t been expecting it, and her breath caught in her throat. She arched her back and invited him in deeper, her body instantly heating at his touch.
“I’ve never had a massage like this before,” she said.
“This is a little bonus I reserve for only my favorite clients.”
He slipped one finger up and found her clit, while his other fingers remained inside her, working her until she must have been dripping wet. She moaned and squirmed, but he held her still, working his fingers around, in and out, then stretching her inner muscles as she began to contract around him. The sensation was incredible, and so close on the heels of her last orgasm, she came again with very little buildup.
When Kyle stretched out behind her and warmed her body with his, tucking her against him and holding her tight, she closed her eyes, started drifting off to sleep as the question formed her in head—could it get any better than this?
BECAUSE THE VIRTUALACTIVE offices were closed today, the day felt like any other Sunday, and Sunday mornings always evoked a sense of laziness in Yasmine. They made her want to curl up and read, go for long, meandering walks in the park and generally be unproductive. The Monday after Christmas, alone with Kyle, brought on those feelings twofold.
They’d spent the morning eating doughnuts in bed and working their way through the rest of Kyle’s Christmas coupons—except for the surf lesson, which Yasmine ripped up and threw away the second time he suggested using it. By afternoon, it became clear that they’d have to leave the apartment to get a decent hot meal, so they reluctantly dressed and strolled down the street to an Italian dive for pizza.
But by the end of lunch, Yasmine was plagued with the thought that the sexfest had come to an end. Their little weekend of escapist fun was drawing to a close. The idea of work and a return to reality looming the next day had a lot to do with it, but also, it seemed as though something about Kyle had changed since last night.
He seemed more serious, a little morose, even. And she didn�
��t have the guts to broach the subject.
Now, back in her apartment and lying on her bed stuffed full of pizza, staring up at the ceiling, Yasmine had the uncontrollable urge to brighten Kyle’s mood with something silly.
She sat up and slid to the edge of the bed and down to the floor, then pulled an old box that had once contained a pair of purple suede boots out from under her bed. She climbed back up with it and sat down next to Kyle, then shot him a look meant to seem pregnant with importance.
“What’s in there?” he asked, sitting up.
“The snow globe collection. I haven’t shown it to anyone in years.”
“Why not?”
“Because everyone thinks they’re lame.”
“Maybe everyone else is lame.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and his tone was light again, as if the cold front that had descended was moving on.
Yasmine smiled as she lifted the dusty top off the box. “That’s sweet, but you probably hate snow globes too.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“You do hate them!”
“I like anything that makes you smile as much as that San Francisco snow globe did.”
Each globe in the box was wrapped in tissue paper, and when she unwrapped the first one, she saw that it was from Istanbul. She shook it, and snow fell on the brilliant blue roof of the Aya Sofia.
“Now there’s an event you don’t see every day—snow on the blue mosque.”
“I bought this one at a Sunday bazaar. I remember my mother and I were the only women there that day, and dressed in Western clothes no less.”
“Were you freaked out?”
“I thought it was a great adventure. It never occurred to me to be freaked out.”
She handed the small plastic globe to him and took out the next one. It was from Paris. Inside the globe, a tiny replica of the city’s most famous attractions stood unnaturally close to each other. The Eiffel tower next to Nôtre Dame, which was only a fraction of a space from the Louvre, which sat just below the hilltop Sacre Coeur. Yasmine turned it upside down, then right side up again, and snow fell on the plastic tourist attractions.
“Ah, Paris,” Kyle said.
“Have you ever been?”
“Once, on a whirlwind tour of Europe during college. I don’t remember much.”
“Oh, come on, how could you forget anything about Paris?”
He smiled. “Okay, I remember lots of pretty, well-dressed women. And a long line at the Eiffel tower. How’s that?”
“Just like a man.”
He took the snow globe and shook it himself. “How so?” he asked, playing dumb.
“You go to one of the most romantic, unforgettable cities in the world and don’t notice most of it because you’re too busy staring at the women.” She tried to look offended, but really, it was just so typical, she could hardly find offense.
He shrugged. “Hey, I was twenty, and it was a quick visit. I tried to focus on the important stuff. What can I say?”
She grabbed a green beaded pillow from the bed and walloped him with it.
“Ouch, those beads sting.”
He put the Paris globe away, and Yasmine took out another one, unwrapped it, and smiled at the gaudy little London scene, a souvenir she’d bought from a sidewalk vendor. When she looked up at him, she caught that serious look again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Other than the physical abuse?” He smiled, but it looked forced this time.
“You’ve been in a mood ever since lunch.”
“I guess I just hate to see the weekend end, you know?”
Did she ever. “Me, too. I feel like we’ve been on vacation from life or something.”
“We have been. I’ve done stuff this weekend I haven’t done at all since moving to San Francisco. Next stop, Alcatraz.”
“We’ll save that for another weekend,” she said before catching herself.
Would there be another weekend? Could there be? Did either of them really want it? She tried to imagine again letting their weekend fling turn into a relationship and invade their real lives, and butterflies stirred in her belly.
Kyle gave her a look that was both warm and curious. “Are you okay with going back to work tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“It’s going to be a little odd. I mean, since we decided at the outset that we’d keep this out of the office—”
“Right, and we should.”
Why couldn’t she just tell Kyle she was falling for him? Why couldn’t she get past her fears? But she of all people should have known that taking things too far could lead to disaster. This weekend fling was a lot like her short-lived reentry into the world of hacking when she’d helped take down terrorist Web sites. It had given her a thrill, and then she’d kept her control. She’d walked away.
Her gut told her walking away from Kyle was the right thing to do, too. The safe thing to do.
Her inner wild child longed to invite him to stay the night again, but instead she put away her snow globe collection and suggested she had laundry to do to get ready for work.
Kyle glanced at his watch. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Guess I should be heading home and doing the same.”
Yasmine stood up from the bed and he followed her. She tried to think of something to say but couldn’t.
Kyle took her hand and pulled her close. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?”
“Okay, but—”
“We won’t mention this weekend.” His expression turned serious.
Yasmine sighed. “Right. I’ll give you a ride home.”
She placed a kiss on his cheek, which seemed ridiculous given their recent intimacy, but suddenly she felt stiff and standoffish. He quickly gathered his things, and they headed out the door, which should have been a relief for Yasmine.
But they rode back to his place in an uncomfortable silence, all the things they should have said but didn’t hanging between them. In front of Kyle’s apartment, they said an awkward goodbye, and Yasmine drove home feeling utterly confused, torn by the conflicting ideas that this weekend had either been the most exciting thing she’d done in a long time or a huge mistake.
Or both.
The moment she was alone in her apartment, her feelings of paranoia and loneliness returned with a vengeance. She’d made a mistake sending Kyle away so brusquely. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop thinking about the whole idea of fantasy fulfillment, and how much she wanted to do for him what he’d done for her. So after she’d started the laundry and cleaned up her apartment, she picked up the phone and called Cass.
“How’s Mr. Wonderful?” Cass asked when she heard Yasmine’s voice.
“He’s gone home now, but we had a rather steamy Christmas together.”
“I could tell. There were major sex vibes in the air the other night between you two.”
“There were not!”
“Please. You looked at each other like you were starving.”
“That could have been because of your cooking, you know.”
“Oh, you did not just go there.”
“Sorry. Really, thank you so much for having us over, and in the future, please don’t feel like it would be rude to order pizza delivery.” Yasmine laughed, only because she knew Cass could make fun of herself.
“Please come get this damn bûche de Noël. Even the homeless guy on my block won’t eat it.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, trying to foist that thing off on the less fortunate.”
“I know. I bought him a new pair of shoes to make up for the offense.”
“I hope you can extend that sense of generosity to a less-needy person in your life. Namely me. I need a favor,” Yasmine said.
“Oh? After you insulted my cooking?”
“I’m truly sorry. Now do you think you could hook me up with a private peep show room at the Pink Pussycat?”
“Whoa, mama. Back up there for a sec.”
“I owe Kyle a little fantasy experience, okay? I need a peep show room to do it, and I was hoping you could talk to the manager at the club, pull a few strings…I’m willing to pay, of course.”
“So you need a room, but not a girl.”
“Of course no girl—I’m the girl in the fantasy!”
“Hey. You never know how many girls might appear in a guy’s fantasy.”
“True, but I’m not down with that.”
“I’ll see what I can do. When do you need the room?”
“Um…I was kind of hoping for today.”
“I’ll call you back,” Cass said.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I get you what you want to grovel at my feet.”
Yasmine hung up the phone and sat at the computer, then opened her e-mail program. She downloaded her e-mail and smiled when she saw a message from Kyle among the junk mail, right below a spam e-mail with the subject header:
Impress Your Girl with a Huge Cum Shot.
Okay.
She’d only dropped him off at his place an hour ago, so the fact that he’d already written her was totally intriguing.
The subject line read, “Forgot to say…” and when she opened the message, her smile grew.
I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Does midnight count as tomorrow? If you’re reading this before bed, do you mind if I stop back by? I don’t think I can wait until daybreak to see you.
By the time stamp on the message, she could tell he’d sent it about ten minutes ago, so she hit reply and typed:
Are you still online?
She got a little thrill when her program chimed notification of new mail in her inbox a few seconds later. Closing her Web browser, she saw a reply from Kyle waiting for her.
Yes, I’m here. Meet me in IRC?
He listed the URL of a private Internet relay chat room, and Yasmine followed the link he’d sent to the room.
There she found Dark Horse waiting for her. She typed:
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